


Stepping Stones.

by Palus_Hiemalis



Category: The Harmatia Cycle - M. E. Vaughan
Genre: Gen, Other, Religion, Speculation, adventure ho, haylix, septus, special bro bonding times, the true gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7772647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palus_Hiemalis/pseuds/Palus_Hiemalis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In between Sons of Thestian and Blood of the Delphi speculation:<br/>Rufus is on a journey out from Sarrin to the quieter parts of Bethean, he stops by a riverside shrine with Joshua for a blessing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stepping Stones.

**Author's Note:**

> (This work is to celebrate the announcement of a second edition of Sons of Thestian that will be released at some unknown date, I am super pleased for the author and got her blessing to write a fan fic speculating on Rufus and his recovery after the trauma of the last book. (She even named the river for me!) Someone has to look out for that poor kid, and the kid he has in tow. Enjoy.)

Rufus bobbed Joshua on his knee as he looked out from the bank of the river Talon. Sat on the edge of a shallow creek, he had pulled his boots and shirt off in an attempt to abate the last of the Summer heat, his pale feet nestled amongst silt and pebbles. The water was clear enough to see the smooth mud and skittish river fish. A shoal of barbel darts made their way a pool that had formed next to a fallen bough. On either side of the shallows trees shivered in the slight breeze, a flowering lime leaned over the river wafting a heady scent, behind Rufus was open green fields home to a herd of brown cows and an open blue sky. A kingfisher trilled, water murmured, Joshua chewed on a polished wooden horse he'd gotten from the Rossignols. He'd only stayed for a few days and he'd gotten enough toys for a lifetime.  
Rufus tried to let the quiet in; the soft wind touching his shoulders and the gleam of grass lying flat to it couldn't quite reach his head. He thought of nothing, but he chewed his lips, he wasn't anxious and yet he felt the echo of terror in him. When he'd placed his feet in the cold water, the freshness rang like the cold halls of beneath the castle, when white butterflies dipped in the air he saw palid skin. His breath shuddered through him and he looked at the sky, Jionathan had seen everything, a future here they had done nothing but run for the rest of their lives, Rufus wanted nothing more than to run in this moment. To place Joshua down for the last time and take head-tilt at the horizon and be left swallowed by the night when it came. To be left as a ruin with nothing but fields in every direction, alone with the shadows.  
He took a deep breath and looked down to Joshua, the terror came and went, Joshua brought him back to the present where running didn't make the slightest sense. He set Joshua down with a huff, he was getting heavy, but still small enough that he could be swaddled up under his control.  
"Eh, Joshua...?" He said the name aloud to ground it, he had to get used to saying it. He was such a quiet baby, it was unnerving at times, Rufus was worried he would stay quiet.  
He rolled up his leggings and knelt in the water, splashing at his face and giving a wash to his torso before climbing out and drying off. He slipped into his shirt looked to his grazing horse. This was only a momentary break, Joshua had seen his first river and was going back in his sling to be taken out South.  
Before getting back in the saddle, he remembered why he needed to take the break in the first place before he had tried to relax and gotten caught in his thoughts, he had needed to relieve himself. Joshua was snuggled up in his sling, poor child, he thought, he was dragged everywhere by Rufus because he couldn't afford to lose sight of him. He'd just have to place him a foot or two away in the other direction for a minute.  
He pulled off his boots and hitched up his leggings before trudging across the water to the other bank, using half sunken boulders to steady himself. In the Myrrithian forest, the stepping stones had been thick with moss, you could stick your fingers deep in the green before reaching the stone beneath. Ferns nestled in the shade, the earth had a wet thud to it, the humidity was the breath of the forest, it made your clothes cling to you just enough to be a nuisance. He snapped his thought back as he lay a hand on stone to keep from slipping. Bethean was dry, the rocks were warm to the touch, the trees left gaps for the sun.  
Safe on the other side, he was about to place Joshua down when he glimpse something at the foot of a crack willow. The earth was flat and red where it rose out the shallows, the trunk of the willow was partially hollow and splayed out over the river. At its base, sitting half inside the trunk, was a tiny alcove built of red, sun-hardened clay and blueish river-smoothed pebbles. It encircled two stone carved figures; Haylix and Septus.  
Rufus crouched with his knees smudged by the russet dirt, his hands clutching the whorled bark of the willow and peered inside the shade of hollow. Both stood with featureless faces, save two indents for eyes, their hands placed together pointing down. Haylix with her long plait that draped over her shoulder and Septus with his hair drawn back from his eyes and tied beard.  
A midwife's shrine. Of course. It fit perfectly together all at once; lime blossom for soothing infections in a tea, willow bark chewed for pain relief, he swore he had seen an alder on the other bank with bleeding cuts in its side, perfect for the blood. He imagined that if he poked about the small wood he'd find a hut or a cave used for birthing, the river too would be perfect for fresh water. Haylix and Septus together were the gods turned to by mothers and midwives, one who cared for children and the other looked over the healing arts. They were lovers, in a sense, in the myths that held their true parentage was the earth and water themselves, and Aramathea was mother to all. Haylix found all the flowers and Septus named them, Haylix wove them into sweet-smelling braids and Septus counted their petals. Lore held that once Septus had injured himself one side of a river, and Haylix rushed so quickly over to him that the ground swelled up into buds of rock where she stepped to aid her crossing, which is where stepping stones are said to have come from. Lore also held when fighting, which they often did on opposing sides of the godly factions, Septus commanded a tree to become like rope so he could secure his lover from causing him any more trouble, which was the origin of willow.  
Joshua cooed and he smiled, the sun was just slipping into the hours of Haylix in the late afternoon and the willow boughs formed a veiled about them, the tips of its leaves caressing the water. The gods had lured him into their spots and were bargaining a beautiful day for favour. Recalling the myths brought whispers of old memories from long before the wounds of the last year.  
Below the little statuettes was a dwindling stick of incense, smoke eddied about the hollow with a bitter rosemary fragrance, for Septus. Someone had been here recently, and they had left offerings of oak catkins, for Haylix, and a small pot. He stuck his head into the hollow to gently lift the thumb-nail sized lid; blackberry ink.  
It was all very perfect, as a child he'd spent many summers idling along river banks and orchards, paying no mind to shrines buried deep in tree hollows, but in the dark of the archives in study he'd found the rites that parties gathered on banks and in clearings would hold. Betheans didn't heed the hours of the day, they did as they pleased. But it was all too perfect for Rufus to resist.  
Placing Joshua down he took up the little pot and dipped two fingers in before drawing a line from the back of Joshua's head to his crinkled brow. He tried to sing the little prayer that accompanied it as best he could, as Joshua flapped his arms about in curiosity, though he'd forgotten a lot of the words. One-half for Athea and one-half for Notameer, so they could share the child in all blessings.  
There was no special feeling, the kingfisher trilled and the water trickled on its way, Rufus took some time to close his eyes and enjoy the moment. He inadvertently screwed them shut, readying himself for waves of dread and pain. But nothing came, his heart was steady, but he checked its presence nonetheless.  
He took the baby into his arms again. From one pocket Rufus fished a small abacus gifted to Joshua that he'd been using as a rattle, but it would have to do as an offering. He placed it amongst the trinkets below them and gazed into the pin-pricked eyes of the gods, hoping they'd look back on Joshua. 

 

On his horse with his cloak hood down, far from the bank, he took one last look at the willows who long branches drew ripples up and down the still shallows. He hoped he had done enough. He nudged the horse on down a long road with nothing lying ahead and watched as he parted the river.


End file.
